


Heartless

by Annie17851



Series: Slices of Destiel [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie17851/pseuds/Annie17851
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the demon/angel fight in the barn over Anna, Castiel feels something unusual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartless

**Author's Note:**

> Code to 4x09, I Know What You Did Last Summer and 4x10, Heaven and Hell;Castiel POV

HEARTLESS

 

Dean called us heartless, Uriel and me. We had no choice but to come for Anna. Orders are orders and even she understood that. With all the – controversy – going on, amid the battle in the barn with Alastair, it never occurred to me later that the Winchesters, Anna and the demon could have simply fled. Left Uriel and me to deal with Alastair and his minions. Alastair tried to exorcise me from my vessel and the memory of the blinding pain building in my Grace as he did that is something I try to push aside. Dean saved me, slashed Alastair with a crowbar. 

I wanted to talk to Dean briefly, thank him for that, but before I made my presence known near the black car, I could hear their conversation. 

Dean and his brother were leaning against the car, and Dean was talking about his time in Hell. I thought this should have been private, between the two of them, but I had to hear.

“They, uh... They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you... Until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly... I would be whole again... like magic... just so they could start in all over. And Alastair... at the end of every day... every one... he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack... if I put souls on... if I started the torturing. And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For 30 years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy. I couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls. The -- the things that I did to them.”

Dean had to stop talking, and I could see the tears marring the beauty of the face I had meticulously reconstructed. 

Sam was trying to comfort him, but his words fell on deaf ears. I wanted to reach out with my Grace and brush the salty drops away. The sight of those tears on the Righteous Man’s face manifested a strange stirring in my vessel, a melancholy disturbance in my Grace.

Maybe heartless wasn't the word Dean should have used.


End file.
